


Argumentative

by PranksterPeeves



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexuality, Closets, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Secret Identity, Trapped In A Closet, inappropriate use of Mjolnir, the avengers are so done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 07:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6695389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PranksterPeeves/pseuds/PranksterPeeves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After two weeks of Iron Man avoiding Captain America, the Avengers decided that they needed to talk. Shoving them both in a cleaning closet until they made up sounded like a great idea, and Thor was glad to lend his hammer to it.<br/>Steve just wanted to go home and finish his book, but he gets stuck in a closet with his argumentative best friend that he's pining hopelessly for instead. Steve just wishes Iron Man would stop with the brooding silences and talk to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Argumentative

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this a few weeks ago and I've proofread, revised, and edited it to death. And this is probably the biggest cliche ever, but here you go. A fic about two people being locked in a small room and being forced to talk. Ta-da!  
> This fic is based on the MCU, but Tony and Steve keep their secret identities. Why? I have no idea. I just wrote it like that. (It probably has to do with the fact that I really dislike the MCU, especially the more recent movies, but have yet to do enough reading into the Avengers comics that I end up writing MCU fanfics anyway.)  
> I'm pretty sure I don't need to tell anybody this, but this story mentions the ending of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, so if you haven't seen the movie or read the book and have been carefully avoiding spoilers with miraculous success, read the book and come back. I don't want to ruin the whole thing for you.  
> Anyway, enjoy the fic! Any suggestions for improvement are appreciated greatly.

It was a typical Avengers meet-and-greet party, scheduled by Tony Stark on command by Nick Fury, for fundraising for both Stark’s Avengers-related projects and Fury’s typical misjudgment on government budgets. Steve got to attend in full costume due to Fury’s orders, and was, as usual, overheating. He shot a glance at Iron Man, wondering if he had air conditioning in that hunk of metal, to see him talking to Hawkeye under an air vent. _Nope,_ Steve answered for himself.

As with every other time, Clint had been avoiding anybody that approached him by carefully managed movement that placed other people between him and the people wishing to talk to him. When someone actually managed to approach him successfully, he started talking about his work in technicalities that the person wouldn’t understand, successfully managing to make them leave him alone while still giving them the impression he knew his stuff. He also wandered between the Avengers, making subtle jokes about nearby patrons without turning in their direction and changing the subject every time they looked in his direction. As he somehow managed to do this without getting caught, Fury let his behavior slide every time.

Fury, who had been grimacing at every wealthy patron that approached him in an attempt to smile genially at them. Who, Steve saw, was currently talking irritably to a persistently social elderly lady to Steve’s left. Who hated these parties possibly more than Steve himself.

Steve snorted, turning back to observe Iron Man and Hawkeye talking. _Maybe if Fury actually learned how to keep a budget, we wouldn’t be having these dumb parties as much as we do._

Steve watched the conversation between the two of them, snickering to himself every time they insulted a patron and that person looked over their shoulder before shaking their head and thinking that they were just being paranoid. Iron Man seemed to see him looking, and Steve turned to look at Fury desperately trying to scare away the elderly woman he was still talking to. 

Iron Man hadn’t been talking to him lately for some reason he couldn’t figure out, and he was slightly angry at him. He sighed, sending the man a glance. _If I were still on good terms with him, I could make my way over there and join in the conversation._ He shook his head to clear that thought. _Not a good idea to be bitter about stubborn friends in a room full of wealthy people you have to be on your best behavior for._ He would just have to hope Clint came over to him next.

Fury was making quite the face as the elderly woman told him some kind of story when Steve heard a throat cleared behind him. He stiffened, sighing quietly before plastering his best national-icon-happy-to-talk face and turning around to see a group of people looking up at him with wide, sparkling eyes.

_Dear god,_ thought Steve as he saw their excited faces.

“You are Captain America, correct?” asked an elderly woman, waving a gilded fan that probably cost more than Steve’s apartment lightly at her face.

Steve smiled his most blinding media smile. “Yes, I am,” he agreed, wishing he could subtly push the crowd away as well as Hawkeye.

A man with wide streaks of white in his ginger hair piped up at this, looking impressed. “Well, now, that’s quite amazing!” he gushed loudly, “I was told stories of you as a boy, and yet, here you are, looking just the same as you did then! How did you do it, my good man?”

Steve continued to beam at him, bringing the script of what he’d said the other five hundred times to the front of his mind and preparing to recite it again. _They all seem to think this is an original question, even though the news covered it when I was revealed to the public._

“I had a revival that sounds like it’s straight from a science fiction novel,” he began, making the group titter like every other had when they heard that line, “There was a plane filled with bombs that wasn’t safe to keep in the air or land anywhere, so I crashed it into the ice.” They ‘ _oohed_ ’ at this, awe thoroughly faked, and Steve had to fight to keep his expression from contorting. _Someone please remove me from this nightmarish company._ “So many years later, somebody found the remains of the plane and my frozen body and thawed me out. As I was frozen, I didn’t age.”

The group of patrons was extremely amused by this idea and whispered and chuckled amongst themselves for a moment before turning back to Steve, the youngest addressing him with a wide grin.

“How has it been, adjusting to the future? My friends here —“ He gestured to the group he had arrived with, who had to all be at least forty years older than him. “— say that they can’t adjust to modern technology, and they’ve lived out all the years between!” Said old people hooted and guffawed as if Steve hadn’t heard that from every person over forty at these godforsaken parties. “So, has it been hard for you to catch up with the technological advances?”

Steve shrugged, looking as sheepish as the wealthy group would expect him to be. “I suppose I would be having trouble if I weren’t as young as I am now,” he commented. The crowd roared at this. _Well, at least my joke is as funny the hundredth time as it was the first._ “As it is now, I’m not having such a hard time keeping up, and it helps to have a genius on hand to help if I’m confused about something.”

The group all nodded and smiled, sending each other looks and whispers and probably debating in their head how much to line Tony Stark’s pockets with because of this answer. _Good,_ thought Steve, _maybe Tony’ll make me an invisibility cloak with their money._ Steve sighed internally, reflecting that he had left off the Harry Potter series at the literal worst time to leave off. _Sirius fell through the veil and Harry is pursuing Bellatrix LeStrange, but here I am, talking to these wealthy idiots that wouldn’t give two cents for me if I hadn’t agreed to an experiment by the government._

Suddenly, Steve felt a slender hand grip his arm lightly and turned to see Natasha next to him, beaming at the small crowd like they were a group of terrorists she had been hired to kill, but she had to smile at them first.

“Tony has been really glad to help our Captain here,” she said, voice sounding happy and cheerful but twisted just so, so that anybody who had ears would run for the nearest church without knowing why. _No wonder she and Clint are such good friends — they’re both masters at getting people to leave them alone at these parties._ “In fact,” Widow continued, “the two of them have gotten so close, Hawkeye and I are worried about competition!” She laughed lightly, voice lady like and high pitched and definitely _not_ Natasha’s normal laugh. The small crowd in front of them laughed as well, but it seemed strained, and they all had a look of confused discomfort. _Damn,_ Steve thought admiringly, _Natasha’s always so impressive when she’s scaring these guys away, subtly or not._

“You’re a very charming young lady, my dear girl,” an elderly man blurted, seeming to sense that they should say something to be polite, and sounding as though he didn’t believe his own words one bit.

Natasha did her best to look pleasantly surprised. _Like a tiger might look if you complimented its teeth when your head was in its mouth,_ Steve observed.

“That isn’t a compliment I hear very often!” she exclaimed, a small flush rising to her cheeks, “Especially not from honored guests such as yourself.” 

As she said this, she made it very dubious as to whether she heard that compliment from people who _weren’t_ honored guests and also whether or not those people survived. Steve silently decided not to ever make her angry.

The group laughed nervously again, and Natasha put another _polite_ smile on her face. “Well, I’m sorry,” she started, looking disappointed, “but Cap here has a meeting with Mr. Stark, and it’s _crucial_ to the team, so we really should be going,”

The group, as a whole, seemed to slump in relief, not a single one of them realizing that Stark never had meetings in the middle of fundraising parties. 

“Yes, of course,” the youngest man said wearily.

Natasha grinned, then gave them a wave and said, “Goodbye, then!” as she steered Steve away from them. Steve sent the group a final glance to see them waving slowly at them as they left, then turned to Natasha and smiled as she led him into an empty hallway. Widow’s face had turned back to its stony expression as she walked with him.

“You know,” Steve told her, “you’re really good at scaring people off while keeping them willing to donate to Stark.” Her lips twitched and she sent him a sideways glance. “It’s impressive.”

Widow couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Thanks, Cap. You’re a real flatterer,” she said, then, looking around the empty hallway, continued, “You actually _do_ have a meeting, Cap. Iron Man’s asked to meet with you.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. _That’s out of character._ “Really?” he said instead, “Why —“

Before he could even process the sight of Thor holding a door open, he was shoved inside a cleaning closet, body banging loudly against a familiar hunk of metal, a mop falling on top of his head. The door shut behind him, darkening the room and emphasizing the light coming from Iron Man’s chest.

“Mission accomplished,” Widow stated, sounding smug.

“You two need to talk to each other,” Clint exclaimed cheerily, “And we’re not letting you out of here until morning! And if there’s no noticeable change in the morning, later, so get comfy!”

“The spat between you two was striking discord amongst the team,” Thor boomed, sounding far too excited, “And you will resolve it and leave this room the better for it! I approve of this plan!”

Iron Man suddenly rushed to the door and banged his fists on it. “Do you think that Cap and I can’t just break through the door?”

There was a loud thump.

“Mjölnir is guarding the door,” Thor practically sang, “and he will not let you pass until you have resolved your issues, no matter how fractured the wood of the door may be!”

“So if you want to keep your conversation somewhat private,” Bruce said wryly, apparently beingin on the plan as well, “you’ll keep the closet intact.”

“Have fun, guys,” Natasha said, monotone, and Steve heard the sound of many footsteps. He pushed himself against the door, banging his fists on it as well.

“Hey, guys! You can’t just —“

“Give it up, Cap,” Iron Man said, sounding _broken_ as the sound of footsteps receded, “They are beyond reason.” He slid to the floor, pushing the mop that had fallen against the door to the back of the closet.

Steve snorted at his emotional display, but stopped banging against the door. “Stop being so melodramatic,” he scolded Iron Man, sliding to the floor as well.

Iron Man gave him a look, and Steve could feel the raised eyebrows through the mask. “Isn’t that what this entire fight is about?”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Yes, so that statement goes for any melodramatic behavior you’ve shown for the past two weeks.”

Iron Man crossed his arms, his huff a burst of static against his speakers. “I have _not_ been melodramatic. Just because Mr. Stark has bee keeping me busy —“

“Your employer’s melodramatic as well,” Steve interrupted, crossing his own arms and sighing through his nose, “Which is why he’s been acting so weird around me and keeping you busy, right? You’ve told him, and somehow the promiscuous man on the entire planet can’t deal with Captain America being bisexual.”

Iron Man snorted into his microphone, another burst of static ringing through the closet. “It’s not your sexual identity I’m avoiding you about,” he denied, and Cap pointed an accusing finger at his face.

“Aha! So you admit to avoiding me!” he exclaimed, feeling somewhat victorious.

Iron Man growled. “Dammit, Cap! It’s not you that’s —“

As Iron Man moved forward, his legs jolted forward and struck Steve firmly in the shins. Steve yelped as pain burst in his legs. “Ouch! Watch where you’re throwing that armor, Shellhead!” he exclaimed, rubbing his shins and grimacing, “Some of us aren’t layered in technology!”

Iron Man leaned back, fitting his legs parallel to Steve’s so he didn’t hit him again. “As if it’s totally my fault they chose such a small closet,” he grumbled quietly.

Steve raised a derisive eyebrow, feeling reasonably pissed. “It technically is. You’re the one who insists on _avoiding_ me.”

Iron Man snorted again, the voice modifiers making him sound completely ridiculous, then fell silent, turning his head to stare at a broom. Steve crossed his arms, waiting for Iron Man to say something again, or offer _some_ explanation. He frowned as Iron Man gave him a whole minute of silence.

“What, so you’re just going to let them keep us in here until your ego has been sufficiently lowered to talk?” Steve berated. _Why am I in love with such an argumentative idiot?_

Iron Man laughed. “Yeah, I’m not talking until I assault them when they come to check on us. _Then_ there will be gloating.”

Steve smacked Iron Man’s knee hard enough to dent, though he knew the man couldn’t feel it. _Argumentative idiot that actually thinks he could take on all the other Avengers on his own._ He let out a long sigh through his nose, sitting back and trying to calm himself down before he tried to get Iron Man to talk again. A trail of sweat ran down his neck, and he frowned. _Doesn’t Stark have enough money to cool the damn cleaning closets?_

After sweat had started to run down Steve’s back and he felt calm enough to talk to Iron Man without punching his iron face, Iron Man groaned and started fiddling with his gauntlets.

“It is _too_ hot in here,” he griped, pressing somewhere on each of his gauntlets and dropping them on the floor next to him, “I’ll have to tell Mr. Stark to start installing AC in the closets.”

“For when they lock us up in here again?” Steve quipped tartly, and Iron Man turned his head and looked at him in a way that he figured was supposed to be a glare. Steve sent his own glare back, but took his own gauntlets off as well. _Anything will count to keep me cool the entire night._

A long moment passed where Iron Man stared at his hands, looking pretty ridiculous wearing full armor and having his pasty hands folded on his lap. Steve tried not to look at him, knowing he would just get angry again, and focussed instead on the fine print on the side of a vacuum cleaner.

Steve’s head jolted up as Iron Man spoke again.

“It really isn’t you, Cap,” Iron Man said, sounding sullen, “It’s not your sexuality that’s —“ He cut off, apparently unsure of how to continue without telling Steve why he was being a _fucking coward_ and avoiding him. _Bastard doesn’t care what he does to me, does he?_

“Well, good for you, you’re not a homophobe,” Steve snapped sweetly, feeling his frustration grow. He glared at Iron Man, turning serious. “You could at least tell me why we can’t talk anymore.”

Iron Man was silent a moment, but didn’t seem to be tensed up with anger anymore, instead looking reluctant. _Is he scared of something?_ Steve wondered, pondering reasons that Iron Man could be reluctant to tell his best friend something. He couldn’t come up of anything besides fear of rejection. _Well, what does he think he’s been putting_ me _through, then?_

“If you’re scared of how I’ll react to whatever you’re avoiding me about,” Steve retorted, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice, “try to think how I feel, having my best friend avoid me for something he won’t tell me, but that seems to be _most likely_ about my sexuality.”

Iron Man looked at Steve abruptly, staring a moment, but snapped his head to the door as there was a loud knock.

“Unless you want to get dragged into the conversation,” Steve snapped, “you should leave.”

“I have X-Ray vision,” Iron Man commented savagely, “And I know exactly where your right hand is, so fuck off unless you want a hole in it.”

“Nice to see you two again, too,” Nick Fury said, almost sounding amused.

Steve and Iron Man groaned at the sound of his voice. “Fury,” they said in unison.

“I thought I’d come along and add my endorsement to your team’s mission,” Fury told them, suddenly serious, “You two have been fighting for too long, and a team divided against itself cannot stand up to the guys we have to fight weekly.”

“Okay, Director Lincoln,” said Iron Man wryly, “Great talking to you, and I hate to let you go, but don’t you have a play to get to?”

“I’m serious, boys,” Fury said sharply, “You’ll be in here as long as it takes for you two to make up, and don’t think we aren’t opposed to sliding food under the door.”

“What about sliding a toilet under the door?” Iron Man quipped, “Do you want me to piss out into the hallway?”

“You can make do with a chamber pot if need be,” Fury snapped, sounding so serious Steve had a hard time believing that he was bluffing. _But he has to be bluffing, that’s ridiculous._

Steve crossed his arms, huffing. “Why do I need to suffer in here when Iron Man’s the whole reason we’re fighting?”

“It takes two people to fight, and two people to make up,” Fury told him, “and if you can’t convince Iron Man to pull his head out of his ass, Cap, I’m not sure you should be on the team.”

Steve grimaced, feeling angry at the insinuation that this was somehow _his fault_. “Well, I’ve been trying to get _you_ to pull _your_ head out of _your_ ass, and it’s not working, so how am I supposed to get Iron Man to?”

“Don’t argue with me, Captain,” Fury snarled, “You will regret it.” Suddenly, there was the sound of Fury changing positions, the shadows of his feet shifting the light coming from underneath the door. “Make up,” he said firmly, “or we’ll find replacements until you do.”

He marched off down the hallway, the sound of his feet echoing in the silence. 

Once the sound of his footsteps faded, Iron Man groaned in irritation. “I am going to buy a vat of pink dye and dunk his eyepatch in it,” he remarked.

“I’ll dunk his jacket in it,” Steve agreed. Iron Man let out a laugh, then silence fell again.

Iron Man continued to stare in Steve’s direction as Steve continued to read the side of a vacuum cleaner. Iron Man’s shoulders were slumped, the hero looking pensive despite the fact that Steve couldn’t see his face. Steve wondered what he was thinking about, but kept his mouth shut to avoid being insulted.

A constant stream of sweat started rolling down Steve’s back. “Jesus Christ,” he cursed, rolling up his sleeves. He considered just ripping them off the costume, but then Nick Fury and Tony Stark would have even more reasons to be angry with him. _As much as I would like to piss both of them off right now, I’m not going to risk it just yet._

Iron Man let out a hiss a moment later, pulling off his boots and revealing some sort of skin suit underneath, but bare feet. He wiggled his toes and let out a staticky breath.

Steve stared at his bare feet enviously for a moment, then pulled off his own boots, sighing as the cold air moved between his toes.

“My mother always said that your whole body temperature is controlled by your feet,” Steve mused, feeling somewhat wistful at the thought.

Iron Man laughed. “With how hot I’m still feeling in this chunk of metal right now, I’m going to disagree with that,” he said, sounding thoroughly exasperated, “I need to get some AC installed in this thing.”

Steve barked out a laugh as well, but then remembered their conflict and fell silent. Iron Man seemed to remember it as well and slumped again, the two of them falling into an uncomfortable silence. Steve almost wished he had had the foresight to bring along his copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix so he had something to do, but figured that reading the end of the book in a closet with his argumentative best friend wasn’t the best idea. _Don’t need to add more feelings to the battle in the Department of Mysteries than there already are._

Iron Man suddenly spoke up again, voice loud and awkward.

“I — I wasn’t avoiding you because of your sexuality. I was avoiding you because —“

Steve looked up expectantly, but Iron Man stuttered to a halt, not saying what he was about to say. Steve felt himself grow even more frustrated. “Spit it out, Shellhead.”

Iron Man was silent another moment, then shook his head quickly, the movement looking comical in the armor. “I — I was avoiding you because of… my sexuality,” he finished, lowering his head to look at the hands he was wringing.

Steve gawped at him, suddenly feeling pissed. _If he liked me as more than a friend, he could have told me instead of treating me like a leper. I would have…_

“So you had a sexual identity crisis when you learned that the all-American figurehead was less than straight?” Steve snapped, skeptical.

Iron Man shook his head quickly, letting out a harsh laugh. “I had my sexual identity crisis a long time ago,” he said, sounding self-deprecating.

Steve stared at him, feeling a spark of hope form in his gut against his will. _Does the idiot actually like me back?_ He shook the thought out of his head, knowing better than to believe that immediately. He tried to tell himself there could be a million other explanations, but immediately shot down that thought. _Like what? Is he one of those straight guys that apparently go around saying “No homo,” all the time? But that’s exactly what I thought he was avoiding me for!_

Steve narrowed his eyes, confused. “Can you elaborate, or do you need another hour to fret over how I’ll react?”

Iron Man looked at him, silent another moment, then continued, “I — er, had previously thought you were straight —“

“Obviously,” Steve grumbled.

Iron Man must’ve glared at him by how he shifted his head, but Steve couldn’t see it, as usual. “So I thought my — er —“ Iron Man cut off, sounding awkward, “— I thought you were unattainable to me, and I…” he drifted off, apparently unable to form the explanation that suddenly seemed so obvious to Steve into words.

“So the revelation that I might be open to a relationship made you wonder if you wanted to pursue me and risk ruining or friendship or continue to treat me only as a friend,” Steve surmised, knowing the feeling well enough himself. _Iron Man isn’t very open about his sexuality, but I had this conversation with myself, too, after I figured out my feelings._

Iron Man seemed to startle at Steve’s summary, but nodded slowly. Steve looked down at his lap, still feeling pissed that Iron Man had decided not to talk to him about this, but also feeling hopeful that his feelings might not be so one-sided after all. _If he was acting so damn awkward for so long, it has to be more than a passing fancy…_

“And we both don’t know each other’s secret identities,” Iron Man pointed out after another moment of silence, Steve looking up at him incredulously at this, “And I’m not sure we should risk —“

Having heard the _secret identity rant_ from nearly every other superhero he knew twice already, Steve didn’t feel like listening to Iron Man’s relationship version of it. Figuring actions spoke louder than words, Steve pulled his mask down to show Iron Man he trusted him completely and didn’t give a damn about the argument he was going to make. Iron Man cut off, hand freezing in mid-emphasis as he stared at Steve’s face.

Steve stuck his hand out.

“Steve Rogers,” he told Iron Man, “Nice to meet you.”

Iron Man continued to stare as he took Steve’s hand on autopilot, shaking it. He then held on to it a long moment while his mind struggled to catch up with his body, suddenly letting go as if Steve’s hand was on fire when he finally managed to think again.

“You have sweaty hands!” Steve exclaimed sarcastically, “By golly, am I making you nervous?” He ended in a falsetto. Iron Man continued to stare at him for a while longer. He seemed to snap out of it and shook his head.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he told Steve, voice unreadable.

Steve snorted, leaning against the wall. “Yes, I did,” he contradicted, “I didn’t feel like listening to your relationship version of the secret identity rant when I’ve heard the original three times from you.” He sighed, knitting his fingers together and propping his hands up on his knees. “I trust you, and I’m not stupid enough to think if we had a spat or broke up, you’d go to the press and tell them I’m Captain America to spite me.”

As Steve said this, suddenly, as if Jarvis had a grudge against him, the lights outside the closet went out and left them in darkness pierced only by Iron Man’s chest piece. Steve sighed loudly. “Doesn’t your boss get lights installed in his closets?”

Iron Man shifted, visible only by the light projected from his chest, and the closet was suddenly lit up again by two lights in Iron Man’s unequipped gauntlets, held now in his hands. “He should,” Iron Man agreed, then saw Steve’s expression and exclaimed, “Jesus, Cap, it’s a light function! I’m not going to blast a hole in the ceiling.”

He handed Steve a gauntlet, Steve taking it and holding it so he could actually see. Iron Man was still a moment, then moved his hands up to his helmet and pressed a button underneath it. His helmet unclasped, and he pulled it off.

Steve’s mind went blank for a moment as he saw Iron Man’s face, trying to fit together the puzzle of how _Iron Man_ could be his own boss, _Tony Stark,_ and how that could _possibly_ work, but the pieces of the puzzle fit together so well that eventually Steve burst out laughing when he saw the whole picture.

“ _Jesus Christ!_ ” Steve exclaimed, laughing so much that Tony started to look awkward, “And you thought my identity was a whopper! Jeez —“ He shook his head, still laughing. “— no wonder Tony Stark’s been avoiding me!”

Tony looked incredulous as Steve continued to laugh, but Steve managed to calm himself down. He let out a long breath, shaking his head.

“Are you done?” Tony asked, almost looking offended through his awkward smile.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, “Yeah, I’m done.” He snorted. “Good cover, being your own bodyguard.”

“Had you fooled,” Tony gloated, smirking.

“Yeah, you sure did.” Steve chuckled, then realized why Iron M — Tony had taken his mask off.

“So,” Tony started, looking nervous and apparently having Steve’s exact thought, “Does this mean you’d like a relationship as well?”

Steve thought it over, then figured he had nothing to lose and nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, wondering if he should bluff this being a huge deal to him and deciding just to remain silent. _I don’t want to go confessing my undying love right away if he doesn’t actually love me back._

Tony grinned, looking relieved. “So, what are we, then? Boyfriends? Partners?”

Steve made a face at the _boyfriends_ comment. _It sounds worse when Tony says it, even if I’ve thought the word before._ “How about _together?_ Does that work?”

Tony snorted. “Alright, you’re my boyfriend then,” he quipped. Steve laughed, sticking his tongue out at him, and Tony laughed a bit as well.

They fell into silence again, much more comfortable now, and Steve decided after a while that another question wouldn’t hurt.

“How long have you been pining, then, anyway?” Steve asked, doing his best not to sound too invested. Tony started to look nervous, so Steve continued, “You said you thought I was unattainable before you learned I was bi, so —“ Steve cut himself off, realizing he was starting to sound like he cared exactly how much he actually cared. _Shut your mouth, Steve, or he’ll figure out how long_ you’ve _been pining!_

Tony thought this over. “It’s — been a while,” he admitted, looking down at his hands again. There was silence, then Tony’s hands moved to the armor on his chest and pressed a few buttons. The armor released and Tony took it off to reveal a sweat-soaked skin suit underneath. Steve winced at the amount of sweat covering the suit. _He’s sweating a lot even compared to me._

“It is _too damn hot_ in here,” Steve commented, fanning himself. Tony nodded, leaning against the wall. Tony then made a face and hit the clasps on the lower part of his armor, rolling out of it and pushing it towards the rest of the armor. He sighed in relief, fanning himself with the gauntlet he was holding. Steve snorted at the movement, light flying everywhere as he did this.

“Can you not?” he asked, Tony snickering at him before stopping. Steve suddenly noticed that the light in his chest wasn’t gone, and furrowed his brow in concern. “Er — Tony, you…”

Tony followed Steve’s gaze. “Oh, yeah,” he said, looking embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed Steve would notice a light in his chest, “That’s keeping shrapnel from a bomb from entering my heart,” he explained, tapping it, “It functions as a magnet and keeps me from getting an extremely risky surgery.

Steve winced at this explanation, feeling a lot more concerned now that he knew the use for it. “Isn’t it risky to have something keeping you alive jutting out of your chest?”

Tony shrugged, nodding and looking somewhat anxious. “Yeah. It’s been ripped out before by less than savory people, but I always manage to get another one and put it in.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “It needs changed monthly, so I have a lot hanging around the workshop.”

Steve remembered being in Tony’s workshop once and seeing a shelf full of miniature arc reactors and thinking they were spare batteries for Iron Man’s suit. The new explanation of them keeping Tony alive as well as powering the suit wasn’t very pleasant.

Tony frowned slightly, giving Steve a nervous glance. “This doesn’t change my presence on the team, does it?” he asked, looking anxious. Steve’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly.

“No, of course not!” he exclaimed, wondering why Tony would even think that, “I mean, it’s worrying, but you’ve been doing fine this far, so there’s no need for me to get all anxious about your presence on the team.”

Tony nodded, looking relieved. “Alright, then,” he said, relaxing against the wall. They drifted into silence again, Steve starting to fan himself with the hand not holding Iron Man’s gauntlet. He reconsidered pulling his sleeves off his shirt, feeling extremely hot and sweaty, then decided he may as well not ruin the costume.

“Screw it,” he blurted, pulling his entire shirt off. He placed it on the pile with the other pieces of his costume, sighing in relief as his whole body started to cool. He wished he had a bottle of water, but figured he’d have to survive without it.

He noticed Tony staring at his chest and smirked slightly, raising his arms and leaning back. “Like what you see?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tony choked for a moment, his face turning red, and Steve laughed. Tony seemed to regain control of his throat and shook his head, smiling sheepishly. Steve rolled his eyes, leaning his head against the wall. _I refuse to make out with Tony in a cleaning closet,_ he told himself.

A long silence followed this, Steve and Tony fanning themselves in the overly hot closet. Steve wondered if the Avengers would check on them in the middle of the night, or if they would be left to dry out until morning. _Maybe they’ll come by around midnight._

Steve looked at Tony as he cleared his throat, the man speaking up again. “So, this isn’t an impulse decision on your part, right?” he asked, looking anxious and diverting his gaze from Steve’s to stare at his hands again, “You’re not just doing this because I brought it up?”

Steve’s throat somehow dried up even more. “No,” he told Tony, looking down as well, “I’ve — er, liked you for a while, as well.”

Tony nodded, but suddenly frowned, looking thoughtful. “Tony Stark or Iron Man?” he asked, looking nervous.

Steve blinked. _How the hell am I supposed to answer that?_ “Well,” he started tentatively, wondering if he could say _anything_ without incriminating himself, “I liked Iron Man more than Tony Stark, but — I did think Tony was attractive,” he admitted, deciding the truth was good enough. 

Tony was silent a moment, then smirked at Steve. “Even you weren’t immune to my irresistible charm, eh?” he flirted.

Steve snorted, shaking his head. “You are quite the charmer,” he flirted back, watching Tony’s eyes widen in pleased surprise. _What, did he not notice me flirting a few minutes ago?_

They were silent for a while again before Steve decided that he could ask another question about Tony’s affections without incriminating himself. He tried to think of a good way to phrase his curiosity. He opened his mouth, preparing a script.

“How much do you like me?” he blurted instead of his prepared question, recoiling as he realized what he’d said. _He is going to figure out I’m in love with him and drop me,_ Steve worried, then wondered if that was even something Tony would do. _He has a reputation for not liking commitment, but he’s the one who proposed a relationship, so…_

He looked at Tony, seeing the man frozen like a deer in the headlights. Steve raised his eyebrows, seeing a range of emotions run over Tony’s face before it went blank, Tony’s eyes the only sign of his internal conflict. Steve raised his eyebrows at the mechanic’s expression, feeling his stomach flip. _He would_ not _have that big a reaction if it were something small._

The surprising part was that Steve actually believed that thought this time.

“A lot?” Tony admitted a second later, voice raising at the end as though he wasn’t sure that was the correct answer. The mechanic winced, looking more anxious than he had the whole time Steve could see his face.

Steve frowned slightly, wondering if he should push. He thought a moment, then decided to. _Fuck it. He can’t just be casually interested in me if this is his reaction._

“A lot meaning…?” Steve said, voice quieter and far more anxious than he had intended it to come out. Tony stared at him a long moment, looking as though he hadn’t even heard the emotions in Steve’s voice.

“Do I have to answer that?” Tony asked quietly, looking down at his lap. 

Steve’s brow furrowed at this statement, and he stared at Tony. _If he doesn’t love me,_ Steve mused, _then would he be acting this nervous about that question?_

“I dunno,” Steve said, both in answer to his own question and Tony’s. _I don’t want to believe it, in case it isn’t true._

Tony stared at Steve for a long moment, growing frustrated. He huffed. “What do you want me to say, Steve?” he snapped, frowning at him.

Steve blinked, wondering where the anger was coming from. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to —“ he tried to argue, but Tony cut him off, looking slightly pissed.

“Really?” he griped, crossing his arms over his chest, “Because it looks to me like you won’t let me live it down if I don’t.”

Steve frowned deeply, feeling his own frustration rising at the insinuation. “I’m not going to rub it in if you don’t!” he exclaimed, feeling the need to defend himself, “I was just wondering —“

“Jeez, Cap,” Tony interrupted angrily, “How about I just spill every secret I’ve ever had to get you to stop looking at me like that, huh?”

Steve frowned deeply, feeling as though the conversation were spinning out of hand. _Should have just kept my mouth shut!_ He raised his hands, trying to speak calmly. “Tony, I didn’t mean —“

Tony wasn’t listening, though, speaking straight over him. “How about I ask you how deep your feelings are, poke you until you say exactly what I want? How does that sound —“

“Well, I have deep feelings for _you_!” Steve exclaimed without really thinking it over, and fell silent as he realized what he had said, looking down at his lap. _Way to go and end the whole game, Steve,_ he berated himself, _Congrats._

Tony was silent, Steve’s final words apparently making their mark on him. Steve didn’t look up, afraid of what he would see on the other’s face.

“You —“ Tony started quietly, then cut off and had to start again, “You have deep feelings for me?”

Steve sighed, nodding because he knew he couldn’t deny it now. He decided to keep his mouth shut and hope Tony would leave it alone, since he didn’t seem to return the sentiment.

His hope was in vain. “You — How deep?” Tony asked, sounding nervous himself.

Steve snorted, shaking his head. “Isn’t that the question we were just fighting about?” he quipped. Tony fell silent, an uncomfortable silence falling, and Steve thought for a moment. 

_I really don’t have anything left to lose, do I?_ Steve let out a breath, gathering his courage. _Just three little words._

“I love you,” he said sullenly, voice loud and cutting through the silence like a knife. He heard Tony’s breath hitch, but refused to look up and see the look of apologetic denial. _It probably wasn’t going to work out, anyway,_ he tried to console himself.

There was a long silence, Steve pulling his knees to his chest and putting his forehead against them after a moment. Tony’s breath seemed to stutter again, and he heard the mechanic moving.

“Cap! _Steve,_ ” he said, placing a hand on Steve’s leg, “Look at me.” Steve didn’t look up, trying to withhold the sadness at losing a friendship as well as his chance at a relationship. Tony let out a huff. “Please, Steve?” he said desperately, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Steve sighed, knowing he couldn’t deny Tony anything in that tone of voice. He raised his head and looked at Tony, only to have his breath catch at Tony’s expression.

Fond exasperation was written all over the mechanic’s face, his eyes sparkling with happiness and something that looked like love. Steve blinked, feeling as though he was dreaming. _He can’t possibly love me back, can he?_

Tony huffed at the self doubt on Steve’s face, shaking his head slightly. 

“I love you too, you idiot,” he told Steve.

Steve’s heart brightened with joy, and he grabbed the back of Tony’s head to pull him in for a kiss. Tony met him eagerly, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and leaning him back against the closet wall. Steve ran his hands through Tony’s hair, feeling lighter than ever as Tony gently probed open his mouth and deepened the kiss. _This is more than I ever hoped for._

They broke apart a while later, heaving in deep breaths and leaning their foreheads against each other. Steve grinned at Tony, letting out a laugh as the mechanic grinned back at him.

“We sure have been wasting time, haven’t we?” Tony mused, pecking Steve on the lips again.

Steve hummed in agreement. He sighed, though, feeling somewhat disappointed. “Unfortunately, I refuse to do anything more in a cleaning closet,” he grumbled. Tony laughed, leaning away from him.

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed, then suddenly yawned widely. He shook his head, blinking quickly, and Steve yawned as well, suddenly feeling extremely tired. Tony sighed, then picked up his helmet again.

“Let’s try and get some sleep,” he suggested, pulling his helmet back on. Steve nodded, having the same thought as Tony and grabbing his shirt to pull the cowl over his head. _The other Avengers are going to find us in the morning, so we should wear masks._

A burst of static through the voice modifiers signaled Tony snorting. “We’re going to look ridiculous when they find us in the morning,” he commented, laying down with his knees bent on the floor of the closet.

Steve moved behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Well, at least we won’t be covered in sweat,” he commented, pulling Tony against him and noticing that the closet was finally cooling down as the night continued.

Tony nodded, humming contently and moving his hands to cover Steve’s. Steve smiled into his neck, closing his eyes and feeling as though he was falling asleep already. He inhaled Tony’s scent and sighed.

_I wonder if I should thank the team, after all,_ he mused as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Steve awoke to light shining on his face and squeezed his eyelids tighter together, groaning and pulling the body in front of him closer to him. He tried vainly to get back to sleep, but a loud voice foiled any attempts to do so.

“ _Jesus Christ,_ ” Clint cursed loudly, sounding as though he had been scarred from what he was seeing, “Don’t tell me you two _banged_ in there!”

Steve opened his eyes painfully, brow furrowed as he looked up at the other Avengers. Their faces slowly came into focus, turning from blurs to expressions of surprise, or, in Thor’s case, a very wide, smug grin. He sighed, hearing Tony moan in front of him and burrow his face in his hands.

“We did not,” Steve decided to clarify, managing to pull himself up. He straightened out his mask, frowning at them. “It got really hot in here last night. You should have at least put a fan in front of the door.”

“My throat is so dry I don’t think I’ll ever recover,” Tony added, sitting up and _probably_ glaring at the others as well. It was hard to tell through his mask. “You could have checked on us in the middle of the night and given us some water.”

Steve nodded emphatically, feeling his own throat twinge painfully. The two Avengers that had been frozen seemed to recover at this.

“Well,” Bruce said, sounding exasperated, “I guess you two are done fighting.”

Steve and Tony nodded in unison.

“We are far past fighting,” Tony added, sounding smug even through the voice modifiers, “You guys are going to regret locking us in a closet together. We have proclaimed our undying love or each other and sealed our relationship with a kiss. We will be insufferable.”

Steve snorted fondly and wrapped his arm around Tony’s waist as Widow and Bruce froze in shock again. Thor’s grin actually widened at this. Clint just groaned loudly, covering his face.

“At least I won’t have to tolerate the UST anymore,” he whispered to himself.

Steve frowned at him. “UST?” he asked, having not heard the term before. Tony gave him an incredulous look.

“You don’t know what —“ He stopped, seeming to rethink what he was about to say. “— Never mind, I’ll tell you later.”

Thor then laughed loudly.

“I knew that locking you two in the closet would be a good idea!” he boomed proudly, “I knew you two were repressing feelings for each other, and it would be good to force you into a small room and make you talk!” He laughed again. “Our team will be the stronger for this!”

Steve stared at the god incredulously, sending Tony a flabbergasted look. _Thor knew all this time?_ He shook his head slightly. _That’s typical of him, isn’t it?_

Clint, however, seemed to recover from the news of their getting together and uncovered his face to reveal the smirk he had only when he was about to make a really bad pun.

“I’m sure we’re all really glad you two finally _came out of the closet._ ”

Everyone groaned. Natasha smacked Clint’s arm, rolling her eyes. Steve shook his head, leaning against Tony and finding himself unable to stop grinning.


End file.
